The Garbageman
by Melon Gatorade
Summary: I remember when...I was the ninth story on this board...and it's taken *this* long to finish it.... :)
1. Before you Read...

Author: Aphrodite (Impainemas_Angel@hotmail.com)  
  
Title: The Garbageman  
  
Summary: A serial killer who the Feds call "The Garbageman" is out in Vegas again. It's up to the CSI graveyard shift and two FBI agents to catch him. Three points of view telling the same story. Eryn's and Nick's are completed.  
  
Spoilers: None really, but it's good to see "Strip Strangler" just so you get the whole Culpepper thing.  
  
Main Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction. The author makes no profit and has no association whatsoever with any aspect of CSI or CBS.  
  
Other notes: Eryn, Skye, Darren, etc. are my own characters. Please do not use them without permission. If you want to know more about them, I recommend you first read "Be Seeing You", the story where I originally introduced "The Garbageman". 


	2. Eryn's Story

Disclaimer and other stuff: I don't own CSI. I wish I did. I've been getting a lot of reviews saying that I need to be more clear, so I've decided to go overboard: 3 stories. The same plot, 3 different points of view: Grissom, Nick, and Eryn's POV's. It should be a lot easier to understand then.  
  
***********             
  
I never understood why I've never known my real parents.  According to popular belief, I was born with a stripper for a mother and a professional hard-ass for a father.  That doesn't explain the way I am at all.  Except for the fact that I'm a kickass dancer and an FBI agent.  My boss comes into the room: Agent Rick Culpepper.  "Parker.  We got another red notice moving to Vegas."  Red notice: code for an international fugitive.  "Let's hit the road."  
  
            I've forgotten what a pit Vegas is.  The neon lights blaze like fireflies in the night sky.  We are on our way to meet Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes of the CSI lab in Vegas.  Their names sound strangely familiar to me, as if I have met them in another life.  We walk into the hotel room and a tall, African-American man and a shorter man with brown hair and stunning eyes immediately intercept us.   
  
"I'm Warrick Brown and this is Nick Stokes, we're the CSIs working the case."  
  
            "The 'Garbageman' case you mean?"  It is my boss that speaks, not me.  He has no idea how to handle the politics of a case like this.  This is why the CSIs of Vegas hate Agent Culpepper.  
  
            "Let me take a look at the body."  I hope that Nick takes me to see the body; he seems to hate Culpepper more than I do.   
  
            Indeed Nick takes me over to see the body.  "Same MO.  Severed hands and feet, also decapitated."   
  
I hate to tell him the next part of the MO.  Obviously, the killer has not attempted to carry it out here yet.  Rumor among the Boston Feds says that a week or so after the string of murders-there's usually 6 or 7-the head, hands, and feet of all the victims end up in a garbage bag on the CSI in charge of the case.  Hence the name "Garbageman". But I do not tell Nick any of this.  No use in disturbing him further.  Instead, I ask him about the number of victims found.  
  
"This is the third one.  How many more should we expect?"  
  
He had to put me on the spot. Well, I guess it is better than him finding out the hard way.  "Between three and five more.  And I should warn you about another aspect of the killer's MO: he taunts the head CSI by leaving all the victim's heads, hands, and feet on the desk.  How he bypasses security, we still don't know."  I can tell by Nick's face that he is disgusted by the killer-as he should be.  The Boston agents still have nightmares about the parts.  They were the second people to see the parts, second only to the Boston head CSI, Skye Miller.  She has since quit and is now spending quality time with psychiatrists all along the East Coast.  
  
"That's sick!.Nick is appalled.  I know he has a vision of a garbage bag sitting on his desk. I rub his shoulder with my hand subconsciously. I have always done that to calm down distraught victims. I now do it all the time, I guess. Nick looks over at me, a bit surprised.  "Actually, our supervisor is looking to meet you.  Care to come with me?"  I smile.  Maybe this assignment is not going to be so bad after all.  
  
"Sure.  I was actually wanting to meet him too, after how much Culpepper ragged on him.  I feel bad for him."  I really want to get to know Nick a lot better.  But we're working.  I try to make it a rule not to date coworkers.   
  
******************  
  
I walk up to an older man and a tall, younger woman next to him.  Nick makes the introductions.  "Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom."  
  
"I'm Eryn Parker."  Something stirs inside of me.  I know Gil.  I know him because Culpepper always talks about him.  Not positive talk, but rather Culpepper finds Grissom the epitome of incompetence: jumpy, unprepared, everything a CSI shouldn't be.  But when I look at him, I see a different man.  Meticulous, he has a reason for every step he takes, every breath he takes in.  But then I'm staring.  That's when I realize that he's staring at me too, and I become uncomfortable.  He's a bit too old for me.  
  
Grissom finally speaks, after what seems like ages.  "You work with Agent Culpepper, don't you?"  
  
"Unfortunately, yes."  He smiles at this, knowing that I also hate Culpepper.  "But this isn't about him.  Has the body been brought in yet?"  
  
Sara walks me into the morgue. I asked her about Nick, so she ends up telling me all his screw-ups in life.  "So the whore asks for him specifically to come to the scene, and then he ends up screwing her and she ends up dead.  Our little Nicky finds himself in hot water and on the verge of being accused of murder. It wasn't funny then, but looking back, even Nick can get a laugh from it."  I am cracking up, because Nick gets screwed by whores.  Not something I expected from the Mama's Boy he seems to be.  But I become all business when I see the body.  I flip through the autopsy report.  Almost immediately I notice something wrong.  
  
"There have never been fibers on the bodies before.  I don't know why they would be there now."  I think back to the other cases that I had read autopsy reports on.  I suddenly think that these may not be fibers.  I take out my cell phone and call my contact at Interpol, an International Police organization.  
  
"Morgan.  It's Eryn.Yeah, I got a question about the Garbageman.Yeah, the one who sent Skye nutso.I need a couple of autopsy reports faxed.Um, I need the fifth Seattle case.yeah, her.yeah, and can you get me in touch with Darren McGrath?.From Boston.yeah..okay, Morgan, thanks, you're the best.bye!"  Sara looks at me expectantly.  "I think I may have nailed something."  
  
"Nailed what?" Grissom walks into the autopsy pit, followed by Culpepper.   
  
"Um, there are fibers on the body.  I think there may have been some on another couple of bodies.  Has a tox come back on the body yet?"  
  
This time Culpepper talks.  "Not yet.  Of course, you'll be the first to know, Parker."  His voice is dripping with sarcasm.  He hates me for reasons I'm still not quite sure of.  Maybe he feels threatened that I'm doing his job.  He certainly doesn't, so who else will?  I also am one of the few people who can ruin his reputation. Good for me. My cell phone rings.  
  
"Hello?.This is she.Oh hi, how are you?.Yes, I have a few questions about your case in Copley Square.yes, I'm sorry to hear about Skye, how is she doing anyways?.That's good to hear.what was the victim's name again?.Jefferson, I remember it now.I was wondering if you could fax the autopsy report to me, I've noticed a few details that may or may not be on the other bodies.thanks a lot, and good luck with your cases.bye."  
  
I close my cell phone and look at the other people standing in the room with me.  "That was Darren McGrath, a Boston CSI.  He agreed to fax me Carly Jefferson's autopsy report."  
  
Culpepper speaks.  "Jefferson?"  
  
I smile inwardly.  It was an FBI case.  "You should know, she was Garbageman's sixth victim.  They caught the killer but he got away.  It was Murphy's case."  Agent Murphy.  A damn good agent, but a bit of a pig.  Most of the other agents can't stand him.  Culpepper is one of the one who hates him.  What a surprise.  I have yet to find someone who Culpepper likes.  I can't help but be sarcastic back to him.  "You know, Murphy?  The one whose wife you screwed.oops!"  And that is the piece of evidence I throw out. It ruins his reputation. Then I see him.  
  
Culpepper glares at me.  "Agent Parker, if you'd just step outside for a moment, please?" I think I just ruined my career.  
  
**************  
  
We are standing outside the autopsy pit.  Culpepper begins to yell.  "There are certain things not to be discussed outside of the Bureau-or for that matter, outside of offices.  That is one of those things." Then his voice gets quiet.  "Of course, there are some things you could do to make it up to me."  I cannot believe it.  Culpepper has just hit on me.  He is trying to take advantage of me.  The asshole is hitting on me.  
  
I stare at him.  "You know, I'm really not sorry that I said the things I did.  What I am sorry about is that I have you for a boss."  I turn to walk away, but he grabs my arm.  
  
"You have no choice in the matter!"  
  
Suddenly, Culpepper lets go of my arm, almost tearing my shoulder out of its socket. "You ever touch her again and I swear to God I will kill you."  Nick has come up behind Culpepper and has saved me from personal hell.   
  
Culpepper becomes professional again.  He pretends that nothing has happened.  "Agent Parker, you are to turn in your case files and gun.  I am officially placing you on administrative leave until the conclusion of this investigation.  
  
            "I'm sorry if I intruded." Nick Stokes saves my life, and he is apologizing for it.  I laugh.  
  
            "You just saved me from jail, because I swear that I was about to pull out my gun and shoot him.  You have nothing to apologize about."  He is such a sweetie.  I wish I had the guts to ask him out.  I turn to Culpepper.  I hand him my gun.  "I will always hate you."  I walk away and get into my car just as I burst into tears.  Culpepper has taken everything away from me.  My job is my life.  Grissom taps on the window.  Why does he have to see me now?  I wipe the tears from my eyes.  
  
            "Eryn.  Nick told me what happened.  You can still work the case, if you want.  I don't have a problem with it."  
  
            "Culpepper's an ass.  He'd get me fired.  At least this way I may still have a job if I decide to stay with the Bureau.  All I need is a place to stay.  Can you help me with that?"  I want to sleep more than anything in the world.  
  
            "Um, let me think.  There is an apartment I know of, the girl who lives there is about your age.  She's used to putting agents up for the night."  I appreciate how Grissom still calls me an agent.  
  
            "She your daughter or something?"  Grissom laughs, slightly.  
  
            "Not even close.  She's Nicky's sister."  He dials his cell phone.  "Hello, Tamara?.Yeah, it's Grissom.I was wondering if you had space for one of Nicky's coworkers."  
  
************  
  
            "Hi, I'm Tamara.  Like 'Camera' with a 'T'.  You must be Eryn."  A slightly teenybopperish prep greets me at the door.  
  
            I laugh at her in spite of myself.  She seems odd, not like Nick at all.  "Yeah, I'm Eryn.  Thanks for putting me up for the night."  
  
            "So you're Nicky's girlfriend?" The question takes me by surprise.   
  
            "Of course not.  What gives you that idea?"  
  
            "When Grissom tells me a 'coworker' is coming over, it usually means that Nicky's sleeping with the girl but Nick can't give her the keys yet."  Great.  So Grissom thinks that I'm screwing Nick.  
  
            "Not even close.  I just needed a place to stay.  I just got fired today, so it sucks."  
  
            "That does suck.  Feel free to stay here."  
  
            "Thanks."  I pull out my cell phone and call Nick.  "Nick?  It's Eryn.yeah, it really does suck, doesn't it?.anyways, I want you to have my case files.yeah.you need them to catch this killer.they had him, but he escaped.the garbage bags, that's the scary thing.The reports are gonna be sent to your office anyways, so look them over.oh, my God!.that's something totally new.thanks for telling me.later..bye."  I hang up.  I have to go and talk to Grissom as soon as possible.  I run out the door.  
  
*************  
  
            "Grissom." I run into his office, winded.  I am lucky I did not get a speeding ticket on the way over. Cops and Feds usually don't get along.  "It's not him.it's not him."  I stop short when I see Culpepper in the office with Grissom.  
  
            "Agent Parker.  You were removed from this case.  Please leave the room."  Culpepper is such an ass.  
  
            "No, let her stay.  I'm interested in this."  Grissom defends me yet another time.  Why does he protect me like he does?  "What is it, Luce?"  
  
            "The tox reports.Nick called me.there's no cocaine.she wasn't drugged like the others.it's not him." I trail off.  Grissom calls me "Luce".  Why?  What could have possible driven him to call me a name I am not?  "Luce?"  
  
            Grissom looks at Culpepper.  "Special Agent Culpepper, I'm afraid I have to talk to Eryn alone for a moment."  
  
            With one final demeaning glance, Culpepper steps out of the room.  I am left alone with Gil Grissom.  Almost immediately questions come out of my mouth.  
  
            "Who is 'Luce' and why did you call me that?  
  
            "Do you think I'm crazy too, that this isn't the same killer?  
  
            "What was Culpepper talking to you about?"  
  
            Grissom silences me with one glance.  He takes his explanations slowly.  "Luce, spelled 'l-u-z' is Spanish for 'light'.  My daughter's name was 'Luz'.  Your eyes look extraordinarily like hers.  I'm sorry that came out, it wasn't supposed to.  Culpepper was asking me about your competency as a CSI.  He wants you out of the Bureau, for reasons I can't quite understand.  I have read the other autopsy reports and I also feel that the killers are not the same, yet I wasn't willing to disclose that information in front of Culpepper."  
  
"You have a daughter."  
  
"It was a little fling with another one of the CSIs.except she wasn't a CSI at the time. Why am I telling you all this? Why do you even care?"  
  
"Um, I don't. Not at all, actually. But whatever. I have to get back. They're probably going to send me to D.C. to go before the appeals committee anyways." I walk out of his office and walk down the hall. I am about to leave when I think of something that is almost disturbing in nature. What if Grissom really is my father? And the only other CSI old enough to be my mother. I turn around and enter the DNA lab.  
  
"Greg?"  
  
"Hey, Eryn!"  
  
"Listen. I need you to do something incredibly stupid for me and give the results to Catherine and Grissom. I need you to run a DNA profile on me against their DNA. You can do that, right?"  
  
"You think they're your parents."  
  
"Just don't tell anyone besides Catherine and Grissom. Please."  
  
"Okay."  
  
I give him a hug because I am so happy. "You're the best. Thanks."  
  
**************  
  
I get back to the apartment and open the door.  I hear a voice in the other room.  "Where is she, bitch?  I know she's here somewhere!"  There is a sound of chairs falling over and a body hitting the floor.  I know this scene too well.  I've been involved in three takedowns.  I've been shot once.  This means trouble.  I slip into my agent mode again, realizing that I have no gun.  I sneak into the kitchen and grab a carving knife.  It won't provide protection against a gun, but if this is who I think it is, he won't have a gun.  I walk into the bedroom, where I see the terror of the scene unfolding before me.  
  
Tamara is cowering on the floor, obviously already hurt.  He is standing over her, holding a knife, playing with her.  He traces lines along her skin with the knife.  Blood appears and begins to ooze from the wounds.  This is just his foreplay.  He's waiting for his main target to arrive: me.  I wish more than anything that I had a gun.  
  
He speaks again.  "She better be here soon, bitch, or there's gonna be hell to pay.  Not to mention that your dear, dear brother will be missing some of his close family.  Now, where is she?"  With that, he traces spirals around Tamara's neck.  She cries out in pain as the knife cuts through her flesh, cutting skin cells as it goes deeper.  I run outside quickly and dial my cell phone.  
  
"Nick.It's Eryn.help.Tamara.Garbageman.here...." I feel a presence behind me. Before I can react, the phone drops out of my hand and the world goes black.  
  
*************  
  
I wake up, or at least I think I am awake.  The world is pitch black.  Maybe this is hell and I am not going to be subjected to his torture.  Though I know in the back of my mind that he would never kill me without torture first, so I know I am still alive. At least for now.  Damn Culpepper, this is his entire fault.  He took my gun.  He is the reason I am about to face my own death.  Then a crazy thought pops into my head.  Maybe it is Culpepper orchestrating all of this.  My cell phone is no longer in my pocket, where it usually is.   
  
The blindfold is snatched off my eyes and I am temporarily blinded.  "I've been saving the best for last, bitch.  I'm gonna have a lot of fun with you."  The voice is male and unfamiliar.  I still cannot see him.  I can see Tamara.  She is barely alive, blood oozing from the wounds on her neck.  I'm not from Vegas so I have no idea where I am.  All I know is that I am in a hotel room, not a nice one at that.  
  
I cannot speak, for there is a piece of duct tape on my mouth.  The joke between the agents is that duct tape is the universal killer's tool.  It's not a joke anymore.  Why is he letting me see where I am?  Then I realize it is part of his fantasy.  It's not fun unless I can see what he's doing to me.  
  
Tamara is not gagged, she screams at the masked killer.  "Preston, you said it was gonna be all fun. You never said you were gonna hurt me, too!"  Preston.  Preston Marshall? The killer?  How could Tamara have known the killer?  
  
The killer laughs.  "Preston got busted.  There were no deals between you and I, Tamara.  You should be thankful you're not dead yet.  I could kill you whenever I want."  He pronounces Tamara's name wrong.  
  
"But you won't!" Tamara talks back to him.  "You used me for what you wanted.  I got you Eryn.  You aren't going to kill me, you just want Eryn.  Kill the bitch, I don't care, just let me go."  
  
"Really."  The killer laughs again.  His voice begins to sound more and more familiar.  "You want to be responsible for the death of your brother's lover?  Sounds somewhat masochistic to me.  I don't know how I'd live with someone who got my girlfriend murdered by a brutal serial killer.  Besides, you've seen my face.  That would just be a little too risky for me.  I'm afraid you'll have to go first, Tamara."  He pulls a Sig out of his belt.  It looks just like my gun.  I am beginning to accept the idea that Culpepper has spent some quality time with this killer and has probably given him my gun. Either that or the killer is an agent himself.  
  
Tamara doesn't flinch once.  Damn, that girl has guts.  "It's pronounced like 'Camera' with a T."  I suspect she knows she is going to die, so she doesn't care anymore about her life.  I've seen this in the takedowns I've done.  You are trained to not give a damn about what happens to you, when inside you are shaking, knowing this may be the last five minutes of your life.  
  
The killer cocks the gun.  Then I remember one crucial fact.  Neither Culpepper's nor my gun has any ammo.  I can only pray that he doesn't know that.  He shoots the gun.  A rather large bullet-probably Black Talon ammo, off the black market-exits the barrel and makes its way towards Tamara's head.  The bullet will kill her easily, and then he will be left alone to torture and kill me.   
  
The bullet enters Tamara's head, killing her instantly.  I silently pray for her, hoping that she was not in much pain when she died.  He rips the duct tape off my mouth.  I begin to recall my training and slip into my callous act.  "Moving onto round two?"  
  
The killer laughs.  "Murphy was right, he said you were gonna act like this."  This person knows Murphy?  That leaves Culpepper and.no, it couldn't be.  
  
"You know, Darren, you got a few facts wrong."  Darren McGrath.  I had given him classified information.  He had given me case files.  He was a serial killer.  " Preston Marshall liked to dope up his victims before he'd start to torture them.  Tox screens pick up on things like that."  
  
"Dammit!  Skye never told me they had been drugged!  Damn her for withholding information from me.  It's not like Preston told me anything, either.  All he told me was that he wanted you dead and to make it look like he did it.  Dammit!"  I almost feel bad for Darren.  He was used by so many different people.  Then I remember he is trying to kill me.  I shut up.  Then I almost want to play the sympathy game. But that wouldn't be fun. I just need to keep him talking.  
  
"What exactly did Murphy and Culpepper say about me?"  
  
Darren laughs.  "Don't pull that act.  Eryn, you must remember that I was once a CSI.  I know what victims try to do to have their lives spared.  You don't give a damn about me.  You just want to live.  Oh, yes, I've seen it all.  So don't try to fuck with me."  He pulls out a long knife.  He starts playing out the scenes I have been tortured in my dreams with.  He begins tracing my wrist veins with a knife.  "I suppose I could just screw it and slice your hands off now, but this is much more fun, don't you agree?"  He moves to my face, drawing designs marked with death all over my face.  I can feel the blood oozing out and pray that soon I will black out and not be able to feel anything.  He takes off my sandals and begins tracing patterns on my feet.  I notice that he has forgotten that my arms will still be visible and that the CSIs will be able to see what has happened to me.  
  
The world begins to spin around me.  Darren's brown hair becomes distorted and blurry.  I know I am about to die, and there is nothing I can do about it.  If only I could get at his gun.  I could shoot him and at least have a chance of living.  Then I notice the gun sitting right there. I can grab it and shoot him right then and there.  But am I really able?  I make a grab for his gun.  Then I see my arms.  The blood has not begun to coagulate, so it runs down my arms onto my hands.  I have never been this close to death before.  Even in the takedowns, my worst wound was a gunshot wound to the arm that kept me in a cast for ten weeks.  I will be lucky if I ever walk again after this attack.  
  
I collapse against the wall.  The world goes black. I know I am dead.  
  
            The lights are bright and white.  Now I know I am not dead, because I would not go to Heaven.  I am destined to burn in Hell for what I have done in my life.  I especially know I am not in Heaven when I hear Culpepper's voice talking to someone.  
  
            "Yes, doctor.I fully agree.yes, when she was younger.yes, I suppose she does have flashbacks of it from time to time.no, I've never been present for one of these flashbacks.well, I guess I wouldn't know then, would I?"  
  
            It takes me a moment to figure out what Culpepper means about "flashbacks".  Then I remember that I divulged one of the Bureau secrets, and he has just divulged another.  Back when I was going through the Academy, I was involved in a bad takedown that involved my being gang raped.  (This was not the same takedown in which I was shot; this was the one before.)  The incident caused a mini uproar amongst the agents, and the matter was not brought up again until today.  
  
            Someone speaks in the bed beside me.  "The cocaine is so white, so pure.  It brought life.  It brought pain.  It brought death.  It brought us Preston."  I look over to see bright red hair.  I know without a doubt that this is Skye Miller, and that the doctors have put me in the Psychiatric ward.  She goes on.  "Preston brings death.  Death brings Preston.  It's a circle, it will never end.  It hasn't ended.  You know it and I know it.  Her hair was brown.  She had blue eyes.  She was so pretty.  Her prettiness ended up in a bag.  The bag made her not as pretty, but she was Death, and Preston liked death.  Death liked Preston."  
  
            I see what the other CSIs were talking about when they said that Skye was nutty.  She is way off the rocker.  I just hope that Nick would not get the same cruel treatment that Skye had.   
  
            Skye keeps talking.  "Darren was nice.  Nice people don't kill nice people.  Darren didn't kill."  I tried to talk but found I couldn't.  "Justin was pretty.  We all loved Justin.  Justin was Death, too.  He never tried to be, but he was.  He couldn't escape it.  He loved it like we loved him."  Who is Justin?  I am so confused and cannot talk.  
  
            Skye rambles on and on.  She never stops, it seems.  "She was a lawyer.  Justin loved her.  Preston killed her.  Justin killed him and Darren.  Darren was nice.  Nice people don't kill people.  Darren didn't kill.  Preston killed.  Justin killed.  Darren never killed."  She looks over at me.  Her eyes are flaming red, and I notice that her hair is not red, but a massive ball of fire.  "DARREN NEVER KILLED!"  
  
*********** 


	3. Nick's Story

Disclaimer: Part 2: Nick's story. I'm saving Grissom's for last, cuz IMFHO (in my f*cking humble opinion) that's the one that's gonna kick the most booty. But, DAMN! CBS and Bruckheimer STILL OWN CSI!  
  
I open the door to my Chevy Tahoe and step out onto the black tar of the parking lot. I collect my thoughts. Time for another night. Usually I am not this reflective, but there is something holding me back. I feel that tonight will be different than the other cases that I have worked in the past. I slam the door and am almost inside the building when I realize I have locked my keys in the car.  
  
"Shit." I know that Grissom keeps keys to all the Tahoes for situations like this. I walk inside and into the office of my supervisor, Gil "Gruesome" Grissom. As I walk in, scents of formalin assault my nose, various insects stare me in the face. The rest of the team has already assembled around his desk, where Grissom is handing out case assignments. Grissom senses my presence and looks up.  
  
"You're late."  
  
"Sorry.I locked the keys in the Tahoe."  
  
I hear a voice behind me. "See, Nicky, this is why we don't like to let you out of the basement." I turn around and see the face of Jim Brass. I ignore him. Sure, he had promoted me to CSI Three, but it wasn't my turn.my thoughts trail off as Grissom addresses us."  
  
"Sara. You've got an armed robbery. One shot fired, according to witnesses. You know the drill. Find the bullet, match the gun, catch the guy." Sara Sidle turns around and walks by me, almost brushing up against my shoulder. At first, I almost found her attractive. But her behavior swung. Today she was pretending she didn't even know me. A couple of months ago, she was admiring my body. I don't understand women. Grissom keeps talking.  
  
".and Catherine is stuck at home with Lindsey. That leaves you two." I turn to look into the face of Warrick Brown. I wonder what kind of case needs two CSI Threes on it. "You two. Body found, decapitated, hands and feet cut off. Brass has called in the Feds. You need to meet them there, show them around, bring them back here."  
  
For the past two months, Warrick and I have been following a killer who has killed what is apparently his or her third victim. I ask the inevitable question: "Culpepper?"  
  
"Not just him. Some rookie who just got relocated will be there too." We all despise Culpepper. He had Grissom removed from the 'Strip Strangler' case when his findings conflicted with the FBI's. I was glad it was not just Culpepper this time. I planned on dealing with the rookie. He seemed like he'd be better to work with. After all, who wants to deal with Culpepper when you could work with a rookie? He's got to be better than Culpepper. I nudge Warrick.  
  
"You got your keys?"  
  
"Yea. Let's go."  
  
We walk into the crime scene. We immediately notice the body. It is propped against the door to the bedroom. According to the old case files, the killer should have left the knife in the bathtub, cleaned. True to word, the killer's habits force him to leave the knife. A male voice pierces the air.  
  
"Where are the CSIs working the case?"  
  
Warrick and I look at each other. I know it is Culpepper. "You talk. I'm not talking to him." The two of us walk out of the bathroom and face Culpepper. Warrick does indeed speak.  
  
"I'm Warrick Brown and this is Nick Stokes, we're the CSIs working the case."  
  
"The 'Garbageman' case you mean?"  Culpepper seems to mention the name so fleetingly. I can't help but speak.  
  
"What?"  
  
A short blonde woman steps in front of Culpepper. This is the rookie? Damn. So much for being able to talk to her. I've never had an easy time talking with women. As I said, I don't understand them.  
  
"Can one of you take me to see the body?" Warrick looks at me. His eyes tell me that he shouldn't have a problem with Culpepper.  
  
"Sure, come on." We walk down the hallway to the bathroom where the body was found. She turns to me and sticks out her hand.  
  
"I'm Eryn Parker."  
  
"Nick Stokes. Nice to meet you." I show her the body. "Same MO as the others."  
  
"How many have there been?"  
  
"This is the third one.  How many more should we expect?"  
  
"Between three and five more.  And I should warn you about another aspect of the killer's MO: he taunts the head CSI by leaving all the victim's heads, hands, and feet on the desk.  How he bypasses security, we still don't know."   
  
"That's sick!" This killer is a twisted son of a bitch. I heard rumors that a CSI from Boston suffered a nervous breakdown when she got a head and hands on her desk. Now I'm beginning to think they aren't rumors. Eryn surprises me by running her hand on my shoulder. I can't help but feel self- conscious and I pull away. I clear my throat. "Actually, our supervisor is looking to meet you.  Care to come with me?"  I smile.  I might as well try to be nice to her.  
  
"Sure.  I was actually wanting to meet him too, after how much Culpepper ragged on him.  I feel bad for him."  I think she's into me, but I don't think I'm ready to trust women.   
  
******************  
  
We walk into the hallway and I walk Eryn into Grissom's room. Sara is there. She was supposed to be working an armed robbery, but I guess she's already finished. I introduce the two of them to Eryn.  "Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom."  
  
"I'm Eryn Parker."  She starts to stare at Grissom. He stares back. Sara and I look on with amusement. I know we're both thinking that Grissom is into her, however wrong that may be. Eryn breaks the gaze quickly when she realizes that Sara and I are gawking.  
  
Grissom finally speaks, after what seems like ages.  "You work with Agent Culpepper, don't you?"  
  
"Unfortunately, yes."  We all smile. Eryn hates Culpepper, and she has to work under him. It makes me like her a little bit more.  "But this isn't about him.  Has the body been brought in yet?"  
  
I walk into the locker room after my shift. I spent most of it processing the crime scene with Warrick. He is talking to me.  
  
"Yeah, I heard Sidle was talking shit about you."  
  
"I'm not surprised." Warrick grins. He has never liked Sara. Not that I can say I have either. I throw on my jacket and grab my keys.  
  
"I'm outta here. Later."  
  
I am walking down the hallway when I hear a shout near Grissom's office.  
  
"You have no choice in the matter!" I know Culpepper's voice. I run down to the office and come up behind him.  
  
"You ever touch her again and I swear to God I will kill you." I grab his arm and wrench it off of Eryn's wrist.  
  
Culpepper becomes professional again.  He pretends that nothing has happened.  "Agent Parker, you are to turn in your case files and gun.  I am officially placing you on administrative leave until the conclusion of this investigation."  
  
"I'm sorry if I intruded." I almost feel bad for her. I thought he was assaulting her; he was placing her on leave instead.  
  
            "You just saved me from jail, because I swear that I was about to pull out my gun and shoot him.  You have nothing to apologize about."  She turns to Culpepper and hands him her gun.  "I will always hate you." She walks off towards her car. My plans forgotten, I instead go into Grissom's office.  
  
"Nick."  
  
"Grissom. I just saw Culpepper and he took Eryn off of the case. Just thought I'd let you know before he told you. He was yelling at her a lot and stuff."  
  
"Thanks. I'll go talk to her." He looks at me closely. I have not yet shaved today, and I know the circles under my eyes are pronounced. "Get some sleep, Nick." I turn and walk out to my Tahoe. I do not look at Eryn as I walk by her Blazer.  
  
Eryn calls me this night, and I draw myself into conversation with her.  
  
"Hey, it really sucks."  
  
"Yeah, it really does suck, doesn't it?"  
  
"Like you can't believe. So, what's up?"  
  
"I want you to have my case files."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Yeah. You need them to catch this killer."  
  
"Don't you know who he is?"  
  
"They had him, but he escaped.the garbage bags are the scary thing"  
  
"I'm gonna be having nightmares about them. So do you want me to keep you updated?"  
  
"The reports are gonna be sent to your office anyways, so look them over."  
  
"Actually some already got there. The tox screen was completely clear."  
  
"Oh, my god! That's something totally new! Thanks for telling me! Bye!" She hangs up the phone before I can utter another word. The phone immediately rings again. I figure it is Eryn again. It is my sister Tamara.  
  
'You planning on telling me that you have a new girlfriend?"  
  
"I don't."  
  
"Who's this Eryn chick I'm rooming up for the night?"  
  
"An agent. A friend of mine. I'm not sleeping with her."  
  
"Bullshit. Whatever."  
  
I hang up on her. I really don't want to hear her voice right now. I decide to seek comfort in a hot shower and my bed. I fall asleep almost immediately. I have a dream. The Garbageman is behind me. He places a bag of parts on my desk. Inside the bag are two heads: Catherine's and Grissom's. I wake up in a cold sweat to the sound of the phone ringing. I snatch it up without hesitation.  
  
"Stokes."  
  
"Nick. It's Eryn. Help. Tamara. Garbageman. Here...." The connection dies. I get out of bed, throw on clothes, and grab my keys. Tamara's apartment.  
  
*************  
  
I arrive at Tamara's apartment. I bang on the door. "Tam! Let me in!" I put on a pair of gloves and open the unlocked door. They're not there. I run out to my Tahoe again and drive to the crime lab. I run into Grissom's office, breathless.  
  
"Grissom! He's got her."  
  
"What?"  
  
"The Garbageman! He's a copycat and now he's got Eryn and my sister."  
  
"Slow down, Nick. Calm down. Where are they?"  
  
"I don't know. I got a call from Eryn and she was at Tamara's apartment. They're not there anymore. I don't know. I don't know." I repeat the phrase over and over as if saying it will magically tell me their location. I feel so helpless. I need to get to them.  
  
"You know her cell phone number." I write Eryn's number on a piece of paper. They might be able to trace the call, but it may still be too late. I still cling to that shred of hope.  
  
Grissom speaks to me after a twenty-minute phone call. "I have the cell phone's position triangulated to an area around here, with five different hotels. We need to check all of them."  
  
"What? Are you going to ask if there's a registration under the name 'Garbageman' or something?" I resort to sarcasm because I am afraid to lose Tamara. And, strangely enough, I would hate to lose Eryn. I realize that I've been an ass, trying to tell myself that she was a bitch and that she would use me. I hope I can tell her I'm sorry.  
  
Grissom interrupts my thoughts. "Preston Marshall. The original killer's name. Justin Marshall. His twin brother, the reason Preston was acquitted in the first place."  
  
"Fine." We walk out of his office to the parking lot. It is such a gorgeous day, and at this moment, two women are being tortured to death. I see a tear slide down Grissom's cheek, and I wonder if he is thinking the same thing.  
  
"Nick." I turn to him. "Catherine's coming too. Would you mind driving?" I take the keys from Grissom's outstretched hand.  
  
Success comes at the third hotel we reach. I ask to see a guest list, and the name Darren McGrath pops out at me. I quickly call Catherine and Grissom out of the car, and the three of us proceed to the room. The first smell that accosts my nose is that of blood. I know immediately that this is where they are. I frantically call out.  
  
"TAMARA!  
  
"ERYN!"  
  
I see them. Tamara is propped against the bed, a bullet in her skull. I break down. How could he do this to her? I turn to leave. I see Eryn. Her face, arms, and feet are covered in blood. Darren-the killer-scratched her and bled her to death. Grissom and Catherine walk in. I silently look over at the bodies. They look for a moment, then turn back to each other. As insensitive as many people think I am, I know I must leave. This is a private moment for them. I look out the window overlooking the lobby and see a Tahoe and cop cars rolling in. The rest of the team has arrived. I look back into the room. Tears stain my cheeks, as I utter my final words before leaving to go back to help process the crime scene I am so emotionally attached to.  
  
"I'm sorry, Eryn." 


End file.
